On Winchester Wing
by MiaGhost
Summary: (Reverse'Verse)A collection of moments. Denidriel is one of the younger angels, eager to discover the secrets that the Human world holds. He goes by Dean and Samuel's the only angel he likes. Dean wants to learn about humanity. He's stumbled across the Novak boys and Castiel has caught his attention. Dean is determined to stick around this human despite what the other angels say.
1. Finding Home Ch1

Denidriel is one of the younger angels, not yet grown distant like his older brothers and sisters and far too eager to discover the secrets that the Human world holds. He goes by Dean, mostly because it annoys his brothers and sisters. He's lived his existence being told that he's a bad influence on Samuel, who, to be fair, doesn't always fight that influence very hard.

When Dean stumbles across a tight-knit band of hunters, he's intrigued to learn they share not only their passion for helping people but also their blood. The youngest, a mere pup in comparison to the others, reminds Dean in a way of Samuel, his own younger brother and the only other angel he's ever enjoyed being around.

Dean wants to learn about humanity, about the humans and their world. Castiel has caught his attention and Dean is determined to stick around this human, despite what the other angels say.

* * *

 _Chapter One_

Castiel stared at the old farmhouse, seeing the blacked out windows and feeling his heart threaten to drop. He stood at the end of the driveway, weeds older than him curling around his shoes and wishing he could convince himself there was light behind the lower lefthand window, that it wasn't his imagination that the black square was slightly more grey than the others. His ears could catch no sounds.

He'd tried them all, all the ones he knew, all the ones that had been in play before he… Before he died, and several more besides. He'd even tried the one he knew had been compromised. The ones still standing, at least. It had been nearly two months. This was his last, his desperate card, his empty hand. The car wasn't there but that didn't mean they weren't. They often stashed it somewhere, but Castiel was too afraid to wander off and check the usual spot. Too afraid he'd find nothing but more old weeds.

He took a breath, feeling the memory of Alistair's searing knife as it scraped his spine. He swallowed, knowing he was shaking but hoping that he could ignore it into disappearing. He was out. He _knew_ he was out. But his skin, his organs, his nerves… They still forgot sometimes. He swallowed more air, feeling desperate tears threaten. It took an inordinate amount of willpower to make his legs move.

The driveway, if it could even be called that anymore, was long, long, _long_. Castiel felt he'd never get there, that it was another trick, another form of torture from the ones who'd had him for so long. That he was forever trapped, doomed to be so close and yet so far. _Had he even escaped?_

But then his feet reached the steps to the porch and the fearful grip of illusion was gone. He was sure of where he was, a cool breeze crossing the sweat on his face in the fading day. The lowest step complained, old and rotting wood that didn't want his feet to be there. The sound was sweet and familiar, nostalgia to his ears. It had been a very long time since he'd stood here, on these steps.

His parents had been alive then.

He stepped up, and suddenly he was there, facing the door and feeling his heartbeat fast and devastating in his chest. His fingers reached, caught the old brass doorknob. But his hand wouldn't turn it.

 _What if they weren't there?_

 _What was he going to do if they weren't in there, behind the old, fading green paint?_

 _What if he was truly on his own?_

A scared part of him wanted to turn away, wanted to leave and run somewhere far. Somewhere he wouldn't have to address that fear, somewhere he could kid himself that he wasn't alone. He didn't know how long he stood there, his fingers curled hard against the cold metal and his throat dry. It could have been minutes, it could have been a day. Fear had taken hold of Castiel and he was afraid that he wouldn't be strong enough to face what might not lie beyond the door.

When he did find the courage to push open the creaky old door, it was with his eyes shut tightly and his breath held like a flighty bird in its cage. For a moment he couldn't move, for a moment he couldn't even feel his heart beating.

And then all at once he surprised himself, letting out the breath and taking two steps across the threshold and forcing his eyes open to see…

A darkened and empty hall.

His heart finally fell, and it took Castiel with it. He landed on his knees, his head bowed and his hands gripping his sleeves as though to hold himself together.

 _They're not here. They were never here._

 _I'll never find them._

Castiel began to cry. His tears were silent, falling onto his jeans, onto the scuffed and warped old floorboards. Castiel cried, feeling like his heart was breaking, wishing there were something, anything he could do to make the tearing pain in his chest leave. Alastair had come back for him, he knew, that razor-edge slipping into his skin like a swimmer into water, barely rippling. Castiel cried knowing he was truly alone and that there was nowhere else he knew to look, that there was a whole country out there beyond the old weeds and that they could be anywhere in it.

He'd never find them.

"Now, now." came a cold, disgusted voice. "There's no need to cry over a little Devil's Trap. It's the least of your worries."

Castiel couldn't breathe, freezing in place as the words washed him over, as the familiar voice wound into his chest and seat about lifting his heart back into place.

"Now me, _that_ you should cry about."

Castiel lifted his face to see him, revealing the figure from toe to top. His clothes were dark and worn, his favourite was coat missing and his hands were gloved. His sleeves were rolled up, the twisty, elegant tattoo that hid his anti-possession charm stark against the pale skin. His face was older, or maybe it was Castiel's memory that was wrong. There was scruff on his chin and his cheeks were hollowing. There were dark circles around his eyes and his hair needed cut. He was always so neat.

"Balthazar." Castiel rasped, and in the empty air it sounded like a prayer.

The man had begun to move forwards, one hand tucked into his jacket to reach for the knife Castiel knew lived there. But he'd stopped, his face paling and the coldness in his empty eyes filling with surprise, confusion, fear. And then suspicion, dark and scary. Castiel watched him, unable to find the energy to move, even to stand. His body was weak with relief, with the knowledge that _finally, finally he'd found them_.

"I looked- everywhere." he wheezed, his heart and his lungs losing control, skipping and stuttering because _he'd found them_. "I- tried them _all_. I- Balthazar. I almost lost hope."

He closed his eyes as more tears fell, spilling hotly over his cheeks. But now they were salted with relief, with joy. With the fact that it was finally _over._ His search was done. He'd found them and everything would be okay now. As okay as their lives had ever been, anyway.

"You-"

" _I found you._ " Castiel whispered, before his vision began to swim and he felt himself swaying.

He didn't even have time to tell him that he thought he might be passing out. Castiel's world was black before he hit those worn floorboards, his brain powering down for the first proper time since… Since _before_.

At least this time, the darkness was empty.


	2. Finding Home Ch2

_Chapter Two_

When Castiel began to awaken, his head hurt and his mouth was dry. There was a cold, chilled feeling on one shoulder. He shrugged uncomfortably, drawing in a large breath that turned into a yawn. His face felt heavy, like it would take a lot of effort to open his eyes. He took stock of himself in a way he used to do before his… trip.

It was a habit he fell into quickly once he'd escaped that grave, the slow awakening of his body giving him time to ready himself for being awake again. He started at the top, moving his neck, feeling his heartbeat. His shoulders were sore, tired muscle and one was cold. His ribs were sore down one side, the dying throb of old bruises. His hips, his legs, tired. His ankles, a pale discomfort. His elbows, his arms-

One stung brightly all of a sudden, as though a sleeping wound had woken. Castiel groaned, trying to shrink away from the fresh pain, but it _did_ give his sleepiness a jump, and Castiel opened his eyes.

It was dark. Or at least it felt like it was dark. The room he was in was dark, a dull, low light source somewhere behind his head. The window he was facing blackened and covered by thick material just to be sure. The floor underneath was dusty, what little shapes Castiel could make out in the dullness looked like old boxes, old bottles.

He was lying on a bed, and when he turned his cheek further into the pillow it didn't smell like the dust he expected. Instead the scent brought a lump to his throat, causing Castiel to force his abused body into a foetal curl, his breaths short as his sinuses became heavy, his eyes wet. Faint, familiar. The crappy shampoo they'd always teased him about using.

The one he somehow managed to find no matter what state they were in, what case they were on.

Castiel's brain was foggy, but that was a clear thought, a sweet memory. The hours before his current state began to creep back. When he brought his hands to his shoulders Castiel discovered why one shoulder was cold.

The material under his fingertips was damp, and when he jerked his hand back to check for blood he almost toppled from the old mattress. Nothing on his fingers, scentless under his nose.

 _Water?_

And just like that, he was wide awake. He uncurled, ignoring the protesting of his sleepy limbs to survey the rest of the room, to see the small lamplight balanced on a stool by the bed. His shoulder was wet, a damp stain on his shirt that held no smell. The stinging on his arm, covered by a clean, fresh bandage. The blanket tucked over his frame. The familiar old room.

He'd found them. He'd found their current place, found that moving, travelling feeling. _Home_. It didn't matter where he was physically, so long as they were close by. Castiel could cry.

He'd found them, and he'd been tested. Holy water on his shirt, silver knife against his skin. The smell of fresh shampoo on his pillow. He'd managed it. The whole country to search, the list of recent and old safe houses, the abandoned ones, the compromised. He'd checked them all. And he'd found them.

The temptation to lie back down was strong. To pull up the blanket and catch himself the sleep he'd been unable to achieve these past two months and his time away.

But the want to see them, to really _know_ he was safe, was far more powerful.

Castiel folded the blanket back neatly, taking his time to adjust himself to movement once more. The floor was cold beneath his feet but he still had his socks on. There was a pile of material on a chair by the door. Castiel found a shirt, buttons worn down by fingers that weren't his own. He pulled it over the t-shirt he was wearing, tucked it into his jeans.

He lifted a bulkier item, older than the shirt by far and yet so much more pleasing to Castiel. An old jumper, wool that had seen battles more than he could count and worn in all the places it had rubbed against the person who had worn it. Castiel felt his throat clench, wondering why he felt so fragile over nothing more than an old sweater. He puled it over his head, surrounded instantly by a familiar, soothing smell.

Balthazar had worn it recently, his favoured deodorant and his sweat clinging deep within each fibre, his colognes lacing the collar. For a moment Castiel could do nothing but stand there in the doorway with his fingertips peeking from the long sleeves and clenched in the cooler, his eyes the only part of his face visible to anyone who may be looking.

It took him several long moments to get himself back under some semblance of control.

When he finally felt like he could move without falling apart, Castiel took one final deep breath, adjusted the jumper and strode from the bedroom. The landing was dark, open doorways darker still as he forced his feet to move, as excitement battled an unexpected and anxious fear in his gut. At the top of the stairs, a faint light became visible, peeking underneath the door beyond which Castiel knew the kitchen lay.

The door was closed, but he knew it was where he was to go. Steeling himself, he crept down the stairs, reaching the bottom before he thought to question why he was creeping. They knew he was here. They had tested him and found him clean, or he wouldn't be free to move around when he woke. He wouldn't have been left on his own if they had doubts.

Somehow that set Castiel's mind at rest more than his own knowledge of being fine. If they had deemed him safe, he was safe.

When he reached the for he paused, looking down at the light, much warmer than that of the lamplight upstairs, as it soaked into his socks. There was a soft sound drifting through the small gap where the door had been left ajar, sounding like low voices. Or the TV. Castiel needed a deep breath to brace himself and push open the door, but he managed it.

The TV was on, the first thing Castiel saw when the door swung open. The sink had dishes in it, the countertop a paper bag of groceries and the dying smell of coffee in the air. Whiskey too, it smelt like. The light from the TV danced over everything, the sound low enough to make the room feel less empty but not high enough to really concentrate on. Castiel smiled, feeling the tug in his chest.

Balthazar's habit, one that Castiel didn't know he'd missed until right at that very moment. There were stools and chairs where they shouldn't be, one with warped legs tucked under the doorknob to the basement, looking like it had been there forever. From where he stood, Castiel could see the profile of the man on the small sofa, the way his hair swept at the sides and stuck out at the back as though they'd seen their fair share of fingers recently.

Balthazar sat slouched in the far side, his elbow resting on the sofa arm and his cheek atop his knuckles. He was still, and for a moment Castiel's heart stopped beating.

Alistair had come back, and he'd taken him from Castiel, he hadn't escaped them at all for all he thought he had, and they'd found them, he'd led them right-

Balthazar drew in a shallow breath and Castiel's stomach flooded with relief, his skin flushing as he realised he'd let his imagination slip out of control. Balthazar was safe, just as Castiel should know he was. He couldn't do it any more, couldn't wait.

He took a handful of trembling steps into the room, his mouth dry and his tongue feeling thick like he'd had anaesthesia. It prevented his words from leaving his mouth. He swallowed, tried again.

"Balthazar."

It was pitiful, barely even a whisper.

But he heard, of course he heard, and he was on his feet in heartbeats, facing Castiel across the feet that separated them. Castiel had more to say, had words and greetings and heart-felt knowledge to pass on but in that moment he stalled, staring at a face he'd thought he'd never see again. Balthazar's eyes were glistening in the dull light.

"Castiel."

The spell was broken and Balthazar had bounded over, sweeping his little brother up in his arms so quickly that Castiel was lifted from the floor between breaths. Balthazar held his tightly, like he thought he'd disappear, and Castiel's hands clenched in his brother's shirt, fingers digging into his shoulders. Castiel held so tight he couldn't breathe and began to cry.


	3. Finding Home Ch3

_Chapter Three_

Castiel was dozing in that place between sleep and the waking world when the grumble of the car filtered in from outside. He felt Balthazar shift, moving carefully so as not to jostle him as he lifted Castiel's head from his chest and lay him down properly on the sofa. A hand ghosted over his forehead before he could hear Balthazar moving, the door opening. The car engine grew louder and then cut off. There was a faint slam of a door, the sound of the trunk. Moments after that he heard the front door, the creak of it as it swung open too.

There were voices, or one voice. Balthazar's mellow murmur, familiar, comforting. Despite not being able to hear the words, Castiel was falling back asleep when the muffled shout rang out.

" _What?_ And you've-" Startled, disbelieving.

"Sshhh, of course I bloody have." Quieter, mildly scolding.

"What about-"

"Tried it."

"Well-"

"I tried it all." Balthazar paused, a poignant, silent moment settle in the house.

"It's-" Cracking, a breaking voice. Unsure and frightened.

"Really." Balthazar, sure and calm.

"You're…" Broken, clutching.

"I'm sure." Patient, soothing.

"It's really… It's-"

"It's really him, Gabe. It's really him."

"Where?" A pitching, hopeful croak.

The door pushed open quietly. Castiel yawned, trying to open his eyes. The footsteps were slow, light and anxious as though he couldn't decide whether to run or stand still. Castiel fought the tired ache and pushed into a sitting position, turning to look. Balthazar was there, coming over to him, an arm curving around his shoulders. He tried to sit but Castiel wanted to stand, his face twisted the other way to look for-

 _There_.

An anxious gnawing he didn't know he'd been feeling melted away. Gabriel stood in the middle of the floor much where Castiel had stood hours earlier when he found Balthazar. His clothes were wrinkled and he smelt like mud and smoke, the undertone of lighter fluid that meant he'd burned bones. There was a streak of soot across one cheekbone and his hair needed brushed. Needed washed. He had on one of their father's old jackets, the dark leather worn and soft. His eyes were ringed with sleepless nights and his bottom lip was split, scarring shiny in the TV's reflecting light.

His eyes were haunted, but in that moment Castiel thought he looked young and frightened. Too young for their life.

"Gabe." he greeted, feeling his eyes welling up again.

His brother seemed to deflate as the word hit him, his shoulders slumping and a ragged breath tearing from his throat. Castiel couldn't handle it, making his brother feel that way, and yet he had to. He took an unsteady step, opening his arms. Gabriel dropped forwards and then he was there, his arms surrounding Castiel as Castiel's surrounded him. The smell of old dirt and smoke was heavy, choking, but right then it was the best smell in the world.

"Cassie." Gabriel choked out, tightening his grip on his brother. "It's you."

"It's me."

Balthazar was there, beside them, winding his arms around them both. Castiel was struck by it, by how little they had done this, stood like this, shown who they were, like _this_. He promised himself he'd do it more, now. With his second chance he'd make sure they knew, however much Gabriel might tease, however much Balthazar might roll his eyes and scold. Castiel had been a hugger when he was little, something their way of life had worn out of him.

Well, Castiel would just have to wear it back in.

"How?" Gabriel asked, his face damp when he drew back, "How are you here?"

"I don't know."

"What d'you mean you don't _know_ , man where did you come from?"

Castiel swallowed, feeling confused and tired now that he had them both back, both safe before his eyes. Balthazar's hand was heavy on his shoulder though, grounding and safe.

"I… I woke up. And I was- I was _buried_. In a field, the middle of nowhere. Why didn't you burn me?" Castiel felt suddenly weaker, angry. "Why didn't you _make sure_?"

He looked between his brothers. Balthazar looked guilty. Gabriel met his accusing gaze with his eyes set. He folded his arms. After a moment of terse staring, Castiel sighed and gave in. He would never win with Gabriel, that much he had learned at a very early age.

"You're idiots." he said instead, moving towards the worktops, needing to do something to rid his hands of the twisty, nervous energy filling him at the thought of his brothers-

What if he'd come back as a ghost? What if he'd hurt them? Because they wouldn't salt him like they'd always agreed they would?

Castiel let out a long breath and emptied the water from the kettle, filling it from the tap and flicking the switch. He busied himself looking through cupboards for mugs, sugar, coffee or tea. He knew where they'd be, where they always were when Balthazar stocked a kitchen. He checked all the cupboards anyway, taking a mental stock, performing a ritual they all had drilled into them from a life on the hunt.

Always know your area.

"What… What was it like?" Gabriel asked, ignoring the warning look from Balthazar and looking at Castiel steadily when the younger Novak turned to look at him.

"Hell."

Gabriel didn't roll his eyes. He didn't snort or sigh or give Castiel that patented _big brother_ look, the one that said _I am so done with your crap, baby brother_. He didn't do any of the things Castiel expected him to. Instead he nodded, his narrowed eyes darkening with unreadable emotions.

"You remember it."

Castiel turned away, pulling the kettle from its cradle just before it boiled, needing to be busy _now_.

"But how did you get out?" Gabriel asked again, as though doing so would increase the chances of a satisfying answer.

"I don't _know_." Castiel said, sounding small and tired. "I told you everything. I just… woke up."

"In a _grave_." Balthazar put in slowly, his first contribution in a while.

The eldest Novak brother was perched in that quirky way he had, sitting on the arm of the sofa with his feet on the seat. But where he'd usually have an arm thrown across the back, he now sat alert and thoughtful, elbows resting on his knees and his fingers steepled under his chin. The sight, something so ordinary and every day, brought tears to Castiel's eyes. He blinked them back, hoping to avoid worrying his brothers further. They were already so worried for his state of mind, his sense of being now that he'd endured… What he had. With the amount of tears he'd shed he was starting to worry himself.

A year in Hell. The thought brought bile to his throat.

"Cassie?"

Gabriel was looking at him, bright hazel eyes weak with concern. Castiel hated to see Gabe like that, to see his defences brought so low by _him_. He swallowed, forced a smile.

"I'm okay, Gabe. Really."

"No, you're not." Balthazar said, softly. "But nobody's expecting you to be. A year, Castiel. Nobody would be okay after a year down there."

Castiel could feel the terror sharp and raw on his skin, feel his throat closing. He shook his head, shook it away.

"I'm okay."

"Cassie…" Gabriel looked like he might cry himself.

"I'm as okay as I can be." he pleaded, begging them to stop.

The room quietened, Castiel sipping from whatever he had put in the mug and not really tasting it. But the heat was good, it swam through his system in a comforting way, soothing the ache of his exhausted limbs and taking the sting from his bruises. His eyes caught the rumple in the sleeve of his jumper, where he knew the bandage was.

"Thanks, by the way." he said, meeting Balthazar's eye and gesturing his arm. "For checking me over."

Balthazar gave a dry smile, but there was a warmth in his eyes that Castiel remembered from _before_. Something he hadn't yet seen since falling through that front door.

"So how?" Gabe asked, a after a more comfortable silence, "What, or _who_ \- Man something must have done this? Something must have happened, or someone must have- We couldn't-"

Gabriel seemed to realise what he was saying, clamping his mouth shut hard enough that his teeth clicked. But Castiel had heard him, had seen the frustration, the truth in his brother's eyes. He felt cold all over. His fingers clenched around the mug in his hands, his fingernails clinking sharply.

"You didn't. Tell me-" He looked desperately to Balthazar, "You _didn't!_ "

"He didn't." Balthazar shook his head. "But he tried."

Castiel rounded on their middle brother, his cry equal parts fear and anguish, anger and reprimand.

" _Gabe_!"

"It wasn't just me. Zar tried too." Gabe tried to appease, moving towards his little brother with his hands out in defence.

"That's not the _point_ -"

"Like we wouldn't." Balthazar put in, even and calm as always.

"Like it or not, kiddo." Gabe tried to grin, swinging a casual arm around Castiel's shoulders. "You're our baby brother. If there was a way…"

"We were going to find it."

"But no-one would deal." Gabriel sounded disgusted, his eyes lighting with a familiar fire. "No-good damned _Demons_ refused to bargain."

Castiel felt sick. Demons would always deal, if they were getting anything out of it. There was no doubt in his mind what his brothers had offered.

"They wouldn't take you." he said, knowing it was true, his voice cracking.

Gabriel's arm tightened around his shoulder. Castiel hadn't shrugged him off yet like he always would. Instead, it felt… It was keeping the slice of Alistair's knife away when his brothers were near. After so long, could anyone blame him for wanting that relief? Even if wanting it made him look weak?

"Since when weren't they interested in my head? They've been out for my blood since… Well forever. More than yours. I mean, we all piss them off but I would have thought that if they wanted one of us, it'd be the one causing them the most trouble."

For some reason, by some miracle, the stark nature of the moment changed when Castiel looked at his brother's face. Gabriel was beyond pissed, furious that they wouldn't take him in exchange for Castiel, frustrated that there wasn't anything he could do. Castiel tried to smile. It was foreign and uncomfortable on his face but he did it.

"You sound jealous, Gabe. Can't handle that they wanted my ass instead of yours?"

It wasn't his sense of humour, but it _was_ Gabriel's. His older brother looked startled, before a weak chuckle escaped his throat.

"We got you back though." he said, a smile finally taking hold. He looked between his brothers. "God only knows how, but we've got him."

"Well, not God." came a voice from nowhere.

When the brothers spun, instinct meaning they had weapons in hand, they were witness to the sight of a man leaning against the counter where Castiel had so many moments before. He wore blue jeans and a black T-shirt, over which he had an old plaid shirt and a dark cargo jacket. He looked perfectly at home, even as his gaze swept the room as though appraising it.

"I mean he _knows_ , but Hell, I know too."

He looked over the brothers as he spoke. His eyes met Castiel's last, and a sunny grin blazed across his face.

"It was me, after all."


	4. Finding Home Ch4

_Chapter Four_

"How the hell did a _demon_ get in?" Gabe cried out, pulling back the slide and readying his gun. "How the _fuck_ did you get in?"

The man leaning against the counter frowned, looking far more offended than Castiel could ever remember seeing a demon look before they'd been stuck in a trap. It made him think of Ruby and his stomach turned.

"Woah, wait up." the stranger said, his grin gone and his hands unfolding to stretch out flat as though to stop their words himself. "I ain't no Demon."

Gabriel fired, the bullet striking the man right between where the two halves of his ribs met. His face flashed briefly in discomfort and he pushed off from the counter.

"Hey! I like this shirt." he said, looking down at the wound as he stepped absently to the side as though to get a better light.

While Gabriel was recoiling in shock that his bullet had done nothing - despite the Demon Trap carved into the casing - Balthazar flicked his hand out and one of his thin blades pinwheeled through the air and into the man's chest. Almost exactly where Gabriel's bullet had pierced.

"The fuck _are_ _you_?" Gabriel spat as the man didn't even stumble backwards as the blade struck.

Castiel wasn't sure why he wasn't moving, yet. He had his knife in his hand but he had yet to move, watching his brothers' attacks do nothing but offend the stranger. His fingers curled so tightly around the handle of Ruby's Demon Knife that his fingernails bit into the old handle. Gabriel's gun was gone from his hand, replaced by a large blade from somewhere on his person, a machete forged in silver and iron. He readied himself.

Castiel looked at the man, seeing the bizarre nature of his disposition, the fact that he was looking intently at the bullet wound, his fingers reaching into his own flesh. Castiel felt a familiar fear thrum through him. They didn't know what there were dealing with, the warding spells and Demon-proofing on the house had had no effect, the trap in the bullet wasn't stopping him from walking around.

They hadn't seen fangs yet, or smelt sulphur, or seen any Magic or burns. Castiel's brained was whirring, a familiar and almost soothing sensation after so long away from the hunt. The man pried the bullet from his chest and then, just like that, the wound was gone. There wasn't even a tear in the fabric of his shirt where he'd been shot. Even the blood on his fingers was gone. When he drew Balthazar's knife out, the same thing happened.

The man turned the blade over in his hand, an expression that looked like appreciation crossing his features.

"This is a nice knife." he told them, as though they hadn't just tried to kill him, "Good balance."

He looked up and smiled at Balthazar politely. Castiel felt Gabriel shifting his weight, a sure sign his brother was as stumped as he was. The man balanced the knife in one hand before placing it on the small table nearby. Then he turned to look at them again.

"If we're quite finished with the… uh… what do you- _pleasantries_ , I'd like to introduce myself."

"Get the fuck out." said Gabriel, and only Castiel's hand on his arm prevented him from swinging his blade.

Castiel studied the man, taking in everything and wondering what the strange sensation in his chest was, why a tickle of recognition was dancing like a snowflake in the back of his head.

"I… I know you." he said, hesitant and unsure whether he was telling the truth or not. His brows furrowed as he tried to grasp it, the sensation slipping between his fingers like air, like time. "Do I know you?"

The man met his eyes and gave him a smile, a different on from the one he'd given Balthazar, a different one from the flippant grin. Something… friendly. He gestured to himself a little, like a roll of his shoulders that ended with him glancing at his own feet.

"I'm Dean."

"Dean." Castiel repeated before he could stop himself, the name only fuelling the tickle in his mind.

"Cassie?"

Castiel held a hand out to calm his brother but he didn't look away from the almost familiar stranger before them. The man's smile widened, pleased.

"I'm the reason you're out."

"What are you?" asked Balthazar, his knife lowered but still gripped tightly. "If you're not a demon, what are you?"

Dean's eyes flickered at the mention of demon but his smile stayed. He looked to Castiel again as he answered.

"I'm an Angel." he said.

And he looked like he meant it.

"No way."

The smile became a grin, pleased and bright.

"Yupp. Angel of the Lord. Heaven, Halo, Wings. The whole… _shebang_. Is that the right word?"

Castiel snorted, something like amusement reaching his eyes. It was so bizarre, so strange. Dean looked at him, an eyebrow raised, and Castiel realised he was serious.

"Yes." he told him, "Yes, that's the right word."

"You're kidding me." Gabriel said, waving his weapon and looking at each of his brothers incredulously. "A freakin' _Angel_. No way! He's just some monster wanting to throw us off so he can get to us."

Castiel looked back at the stranger silently, taking him in from head to toe and worrying about how easily he was accepting the claim. Ten minutes ago he hadn't even been sure Angels existed. He'd been to Hell and wasn't even sure he believed in Heaven. But looking at this man, this _Dean_ , he wasn't sure any more.

"An Angel." repeated Balthazar steadily, his face focused and thoughtful as he too studied the stranger.

"An Angel of the _Lord_." Gabriel emphasised, a hysterical-sounding laugh escaping his throat. "Are you joking?"

"No." Dean said, frowning as though Gabriel had said something complicated. "At least, I don't think it's funny. It wasn't supposed to be."

Gabriel looked at him like he was mad. Castiel found himself wanting to smile. He didn't even know why, there was just something… Something about this man that made him feel like he needed sitting down and explaining to. What, he wasn't sure.


	5. Caffee?

_Caffee?_

When Dean appeared in the kitchen the Novak he'd raised from Hell was standing by the sink, rinsing one of the many mugs that he'd collected from the far reaches of the house. But Dean thought he looked like he wasn't paying attention.

"I'm pretty sure the expression is you're miles away." he said in greeting, and Castiel let out a strangled hiss in response.

The mug clanged against the metal side of the sink as the hunter clenched his hands on the lip.

"For the love of- What on earth are you doing here?"

Dean beamed at him.

"Hello, Cas."

The hunter rolled his eyes. But he played along.

"Hello, Dean. How nice of you to visit. How are you."

Dean frowned, studying Castiel's eyes when the youngest Novak looked at him.

"I'm just the same as I always am." he answered, looking unsure of himself. "Your voice sounds weird."

Castiel shrugged uncomfortably and looked away. It was mean of him to be like that, he knew. Dean had only visited a handful of times since his first appearance, and it hadn't taken Castiel long to realise that sometimes things he said went over Dean's head. Something about Angels being literal creatures. Although Dean did seem to be inordinately keen to understand metaphors.

"Sarcasm." he clarified, "Sorry."

Dean nodded seriously and then brightened right away, something Castiel was coming to think of as normal for him. For a moment he returned the expression with a half-smile of his own, before realising how closely they were standing. He coughed.

"Do you have to pop up so close? There's this little thing called _personal space_." Castiel grouched, skirting the angel to put several steps between them.

Dean turned with him, leaning back against the countertop and crossing his arms. He looked at Castiel for a long moment before he said anything in return.

"It's not a deliberate choice." he said eventually, cocking his head to head to one side in a way that was becoming familiar incredibly quickly. "I command myself to find you, and I do."

Castiel frowned.

"Well, don't. Or if you absolutely _have_ to, appear in the same building, appear in the same _room_ for Heaven's sake. Just not two inches from my face."

"It was closer to eight."

Castiel let out a frustrated sigh just as Balthazar came into the room. The older Novak raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to comment on his brother's behaviour with a faint smile before he caught sight of the angel. He closed his mouth again, a familiar blankness settling into his expression.

"What's he doing here?" he asked lowly, stepping up beside Castiel and setting his plate subtly down on the table, lest he need his hands free.

Castiel crossed his arms, an accidental mimicry of Dean's stance.

"Don't know." he answered, his eyes locked on Dean, "But we were just discussing his lack of understanding of personal space."

Balthazar frowned, before seemingly reading the air in the room.

"You're having a domestic." he concluded, relaxing his stance a little. "Lovely."

"We're not-" Castiel started, rounding on his brother, just as Gabriel's grinning head appeared around the doorway.

"What's happening in he-"

He stopped, narrowing his eyes at Dean. The grin fell from his face and he entered the room.

"What the hell is the over-grown butterfly doing here?"

Dean stood up properly, his crossed arms hanging by his side.

"I'm an Angel." he answered. "Of the freakin' _Lord_. Not a- what do you- _bug_."

Gabriel snorted, walking over to Castiel's other side in an obviously protective manner. Dean saw it for what it was, a small smile forming on his mouth as he looked at them in that long, slow way of his. Gabriel bristled visibly.

"Stop perving, you freak. The fuck are you doing in our place?"

"You are very protective of each other." Dean said instead, ignoring the question altogether. "It's really wonderful to observe. Not all of your kind would do the same when faced with one of my brothers or sisters."

"Yeah, well we aren't just anybody, are we? We're not scared of an Angel. Just another monster, ain't you?"

"Gabe-" Balthazar's voice was warning, low and soft.

It made Dean smile again.

"Fascinating."

"It's not fucking fascinating." Gabriel snapped, one hand hovering by his side in case he needed his knife. "I told you before. We're not some little science project for you to look at through the magnifying glass."

Dean opened his mouth as though to argue it, but Castiel shook his head.

"Don't go there." he said, so Dean didn't.

They stared each other down, Dean's stance relaxed and loose and the brothers ranging from a cautious Castiel to the taut wire of Gabriel. It was eventually Balthazar who broke the silence.

"What do you want?"

Dean stared a moment longer before leaning against the counter again. His face broke into an easy, lazy smile.

"To pass on information." he answered vaguely, looking down at the mug that was pressing against his hand. He lifted it, peering at the liquid inside and then bringing it to his nose. He looked up at the brothers, seeming not to see their annoyed, incredulous expressions. "Caffee, right? Is that right?"

"Coffee." Castiel answered, and despite the elbow he received from Gabriel he walked over to take the mug from him. "But that's been there since… Well, just don't drink it. I'll make it fresh. I was doing that anyway when you popped up."

Dean beamed, the expression stunning and brightening the room several degrees. Castiel ignored his brothers' grumbling and filled the kettle, trying to ignore the angel's staring too.


	6. A Matter of Family Ch1

_Chapter One_

The nest was proving deeper than they'd anticipated; more newly turned Vampires than their weeks of surveillance had uncovered. Even as they fought each battle they were losing time to save them, the young were feeding and sealing their fate. The town had been in despair for months. With a nest without clear structure in their midst the death rate had become alarming, medical professionals and law enforcement not only stretched thin but also frightened; aware that they were only handling the aftereffects, that they weren't fixing what was causing it all.

There were hunters there when the Novak brothers arrived in town, old faces and unfamiliar ones, and there were more to arrive after. It was looking like it would need to be a team effort if only because none were prepared to drop the case and move on to the next. The size of the nest was worrying and the co-ordination of multiple hunters was making them all uneasy.

Add in the fact that they'd found a demon on their tail and Castiel was filled with the feeling that this case was not going to be one of those they could just end and walk away from unscratched. He had a bad feeling about it, about Dean's absence and about the presence of unfamiliar hunters. Everyone hunted differently, every man or woman made different calls in different circumstances, and some were much less… well, concerned for collateral damage than others, than Castiel.

Few there agreed with the risk of saving the ones who had yet to drink, protected as they were by older and more vicious creatures, and even with his brothers fighting his corner there wasn't much hope to be held in convincing them. _Hunters get set in their ways_ , his brothers had tried to make him understand for years, _they find what works to kill it and get out alive and they stick to it_.

Really, Castiel should know that. It only took a look at their own family to see it. Their father had always refused to listen when he'd decided what was best. Their mother was always stubborn and even though she was more sensible than their father she had always taken his side when it came down to it. A united front was maybe a good way of parenting for normal, civilian families disciplining their children, but in his family it only ever caused arguments.

Castiel was aware how lucky he was to have Gabriel and Balthazar, because for all they didn't always agree that his rescues were good ideas they knew when they couldn't convince him to back away and they were always there, _always_ , when he tried. Successful or not, if Castiel was set in his mind about trying to save a newly turned Vampire before they'd fed, or loose a Rugaru who hadn't bitten or trust a Pureblood Werewolf who hadn't so far eaten anything remotely human, they would back him up.

This time the Novak brothers had taken thirty seven hours to come to agree that they were in deeper water than they cared to be. Thus, they were looking for a paddle.

"Dean, if you're listening…"

Castiel coughed, feeling his brothers' eyes on him as he talked to the ceiling of their motel room. It had been weeks since any of his prayers had received an answer, but they could really use his help this time.

"We could use your opinion right about now."

They looked at each other, blinking, waiting to hear that sound that marked the man's arrival - the sound that wasn't really sound and felt like the flap of wings they'd never seen. Gabriel raised his eyebrows, made motions with his hands that made his little brother frown at him.

"So… yeah. If you could drop in now, we'd really appreciate it."

Nothing.

"Well." said Balthazar, sitting down heavily at the desk, "That's that."

"Maybe he's busy." Castiel offered half-heartedly before dropping backwards onto the bed he was sitting on, his weary gaze finding a hairline crack in the ceiling plaster and following it absent-mindedly.

"More likely he just doesn't care." Gabriel retorted, kicking his rucksack out of the way to throw himself into an armchair. "You heard him. Our problems are insignificant."

"That's not what he said." Castiel argued softly, a frown creasing his face. "He has things going on."

"Other than saving humanity, clearly." Gabriel sniped in return.

"The Angels play a part in this whole thing too." Castiel returned, knowing his brother knew but was choosing to argue for the sake of getting his temper out, "He's got them to contend with _and_ he helps us too. Don't you think you'd be busy, trying to keep Heaven together and protect Earth too?"

"You know what I think? I think you're too busy defending your boyfriend to see he's left us here in the shit while he flies off to play tea party in the clouds."

Castiel sighed. It was hard not to rise to the bait his brother was dangling, after so many years growing up with him Gabriel _still_ knew how to push his buttons. After this long he was better at it. Castiel was tired too, tired of running from one fight to the next with everything that was hanging over them, trying to dodge Crowley's stupid deals and now one of his kind who may or may not be following them on his command. He was running out of positive thinking too, didn't Gabriel know that? Or did he just not care?

But Castiel sighed and bit it all back because he knew it wouldn't help him. A blazing row wouldn't clear the air this time the way it so often did before. Because screaming at each other wouldn't make the fact that there were pissed off Hunters out there disappear. It wouldn't stop them feeling chased or stop the monsters or the nightmares or the feeling that no matter what they did they just seemed to fall deeper and deeper into trouble.

So Castiel just had to try and bite his tongue and be calm, because if he didn't he might lose it altogether.

"Look, Gabe... I'm pissed too, okay? But he did say he was dealing with a lot of problems right now, especially when it comes to the Angels. He's probably busy."

"Or-"

"Right now, busy or not, we need to work out what the hell we're going to do." put in Balthazar, one of their lore journals open on his knee, "We've managed for years without celestial help, and we can do it again. Now, we've already realised that the nest is out of whack, yes? Well, if there's no true head then who do they follow? Who calls the shots? Who does the turning?"

Gabriel and Castiel gave up on their bickering to listen to the commanding voice of their older brother. Even without trying, he was a natural leader and he had their attention instantly. Together the three brainstormed long into the night, suggesting theories and shooting them down, pooling research from online and paper sources and comparing the case details to try and find _something_ that would give them a lead. Anything.

Long into the early morning they called it a night with the promise of waking early afternoon and splitting up assignments.

Despite how exhausted he was Castiel took a long time to fall asleep, unsettled thoughts of Dean floating around in his head.

Why hadn't the Angel answered? In the few months they'd known him Castiel had quickly come to realise that Dean always answered, however small the request, however late the hour. He only ever passed them by when it was important and he was never as late as this.

Celestial being or not, Castiel was… well, _worried_ about him.


	7. A Matter of Family Ch2

_Chapter Two_

Now would be a perfect time for Dean to suddenly appear in that way he seemed so keen on.

Castiel pressed his back against the damp stone wall, his eyes seeking his brothers' in the dark. Balthazar was a little way aways with his back against the opposite wall, his head cocked gently to one side and his face set in a familiar stony expression. On Castiel's other side, across the room, Gabriel was crouched by the corner, his eyes closed as he took steadying breaths. His fingers curled and uncurled and curled again around the leather handle of his knife, a habit he'd had for as long as Castiel could remember.

Of all the things they hunted, Gabriel liked Vampires the least.

Castiel wasn't around when it happened. He was three, left behind in the safe house they were using at the time. One of his grandfather's in a place called Little Creek. Their parents had taken his brothers out on what Castiel vaguely remembered being told was Gabriel's first Vampire nest.

Gabriel was his closest brother in age and one of the middle children. With a sister between them, Gabriel was naturally the sibling he spent his life sharing with. They shared a room, they shared toys, new or handed down from older brothers. It was Gabriel from whom most of Castiel's clothes came from. Sometimes Gabriel would complain to their mother about a jumper or pair of trainers he knew Castiel really liked, so that she'd tell him to pass them on to his little brother sooner.

Castiel suddenly remembered a hoody it had happened with, one of the rare items Gabriel was given new, something that hadn't belonged to anyone before him. Now that he thought about it, Castiel was sure it was a present of some sort, possibly a birthday. Gabriel had been so excited about it, had worn it right away and hardly taken it off for weeks. It had taken their mother needless effort to get it from him for washing because Gabriel loved it so. Looking back, Castiel wasn't sure whether he'd wanted the item of clothing because he liked it, or because Gabriel had loved it so much.

Long story short, before a month was out Gabriel had started making passing comments on how the collar hurt his neck. How he didn't like the tightness of the shoulders. Castiel didn't remember their mother ever saying anything but one day it was lying on his duvet when he woke up, so she must have. Either that or Gabriel had simply given it to him for no reason.

When he was little he hadn't even considered that, thinking his brother must have been really uncomfortable to have given away something new when they didn't often get that as littlest in the family. He'd just been ecstatic to have it, the green of the material bright and alive because it hadn't been washed out over years before it was sent his way. It wasn't until years later that he'd realised his brother had given him it because he'd loved it so much. He had always been able to read Castiel, a lot better than any of the other Novak boys. Better than their parents.

Gabriel was almost five when Castiel was born and being small himself they often passed for much closer children. When Castiel hit eight and was graced with a growth spurt, he and Gabriel were so close they were mistaken for twins once or twice.

Castiel had been thrilled, because it was no secret he had idolised Gabriel. Still often did, in fact. Gabriel had been less happy about it, but when his ire upset Castiel he'd drawn back that secretive big-brother sweetness that made him so wonderful, and he'd told Castiel that he wished it could be true because then he wouldn't have had four whole years without him.

So when Castiel was three he was left at home with their mother while Gabriel went out to hunt. He was young, much younger than Castiel was on his own first hunt, but Gabriel was sleek and fast and absorbed lore like he was a notebook made of porous paper. He was also fearless and, despite his devil-may-care side, he was able to take orders and at the end of the day that was what their father wanted.

Castiel didn't know the whole story, too young to ask at the time and Gabriel was so closed off when he recovered he had never gotten round to bringing it up over the years that followed. All he did know was that it was _bad_ in the very worst sense of the word and that his brother had almost died that day. Three years old was young, too young to really understand even though he was at an age where the monsters of the world had begun to frighten him. He'd cried for hours that night with only Anna to comfort him because their mother had stayed at the hospital with Gabriel and their father had left them all at the safe house and disappeared on one of his night excursions.

They wouldn't let Castiel visit the hospital even though he screamed for Gabriel when they tried to put him to bed. Their brothers were quiet and angry and when they began to fight amongst themselves even Anna had cried, something Castiel remembered vividly amongst the foggy, childish memories of that time.

He was six before he knew that he'd lost a brother on that hunt, a brother older and wiser and faster than Gabriel and that Gabriel thought it was his fault. To this day Castiel could still feel that jarring, sickening feeling of realisation, of the fact that he had known at three that Gabriel was hurt - whether they told him or not he couldn't remember - but that he had not realised that night that there was someone missing from their family. When Anna talked about it with him three years later he couldn't understand how he had lost one of them without knowing and even though she made it make sense by telling him how his psyche was trying to protect his young self, Castiel felt guilty.

Ezekiel, he'd been called. Ziek. The second oldest Novak child and Castiel couldn't remember him. There were pictures, family shots which had started the whole revelation because he'd asked Anna who the boy in the photo was, this tall dark-haired boy holding a very young Anna's hand and cradling a baby in his other arm. His eyes were piercing and blue and his face looked serious, softened only by a small, fond smile on his lips.

Anna had cried about it, holding the picture close to her yellow cardigan and telling him in whispers about a brother who listened to her when the others pulled her hair, a brother who took more interest in a baby Gabriel than his own father. A boy who helped her take care of Castiel when he was born and showed her what it meant to be a big sister.

A teacher, a listener, a comedian and to the very end a protector.

Castiel had been young and didn't remember the cause of all the arguments after that hunt, didn't remember the grief that must have consumed his family. Because they didn't all always get along but in the end that was all they had; each other, and he couldn't imagine his family taking the death of his brother lightly. For all he couldn't remember him, Castiel himself mourned him.

Surely their father hadn't blamed Gabriel? For all Gabriel blamed himself, he'd been only a kid. Barely eight. Far too young to be hunting.

And now every time they hunted Vampires Gabriel would be off, somehow. Not enough that it affected his abilities, not off in a way that Castiel could truly pin down or confront him about. He was was never sure whether it was as though Gabriel erected a shield to hide himself behind, or whether what he was seeing was something missing in his brother, but either way there was something wrong with Gabriel whenever their hunts took them after the fanged bastards and he was never right again until every one of them was dead and the town was in their rear-view mirrors.

Balthazar never spoke about it, never brought it up or made any special allowances for their brother, so Castiel followed his lead and kept his mouth shut too.

But moments like this, when Gabriel was so pale and that unknown darkness lingered in the corners of his eyes, Castiel wanted to ask about that night. To ask about the monsters they had chased and the brother they had lost and how Gabriel had been so injured he was in the hospital for weeks, their family settled in a safe house they'd been promised was only temporary because it wasn't one of the better ones.

It was one of the out-of-service ones now, one the three brothers avoided even when it was near a hunt. It wasn't the only one, and the state of it was pretty bad so Castiel never thought much of it, but now he looked at Gabriel and wondered if that hunt so many years ago had anything to do with it.

Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he stilled, focusing on what appeared to be an empty corner, darkness gathered like a shroud. He glanced at Balthazar, who had a better angle, and raised an eyebrow. Balthazar looked, tipping his head the other way and tightening his grip on his machete. One hand trailed towards the pocket Castiel knew he kept the syringes in, the dead blood that so often saved their hides.

Gabriel gave a quiet, low breath, one that left through his nose and caught their attention without being overt. He jerked his head towards the doorway closest to him, one side of his mouth twitching as he gestured with his knife. He held one hand up, eying them both.

 _Four_.

Castiel swallowed, shifted his stance as adrenaline began to trickle along his skin, the hairs on his neck standing to attention. Balthazar nodded and together they snuck across the room to meet him, crowding Gabriel's space in a way he'd get pissy about when they weren't hunting. Their older brother settled against the other side of the darkened doorway, looking across the threshold automatically.

" _Okay,"_ Balthazar breathed, his eyes meeting Castiel's as he steeled himself, _"here we go."_

Gabriel said nothing, his sharp nod the only sign of having heard, and they moved.


	8. A Matter of Family Ch3

_Chapter Three_

It didn't matter how many times they hunted, Castiel couldn't see himself ever feeling anything less than the almost over-whelming dread of the _speed_ at which supernatural creatures could move. And Vampires, Vampires were like track-runners on steroids; lithe and lethal when they wanted to be.

And so fucking silent in the shadows.

 _"Zar!"_

Castiel drew his blade back from the dying woman at his feet and whirled on the spot as he heard Gabriel's voice cry out, that dreaded specific razor's edge of fear lancing through the room. His eyes found what had provoked the shout and his heart stilled dreadfully in his chest for a beat or two.

Balthazar swung the machete in his hand and lopped off the head of a Vampire who was trying to snap at his face. But there were others, others they hadn't seen when they'd snuck into the room, others that had their brother surrounded so closely that he was struggling to twist and dodge those dreadful teeth.

Castiel saw the mouth clamp around Balthazar's forearm in the same instant Gabriel surged forwards and his hand barely shot out in time to curl tightly around his brother's collar and yank him back. A well-aimed kick sent the Vampire in front of Gabriel sprawling, a swing slashed into the neck of another. Gabriel got a third and Castiel let him go.

"Balthazar!" Gabriel hollered, dodging forwards across the suddenly packed floor, weaving past biters without even seeming to see them.

Castiel followed close behind, cursing his brother out loud as he swung at neck after neck, slipping on the bloodied floor and almost losing both his weapon and several fingers more than once. Unlike Gabriel, Castiel didn't have a habit of counting his kills. For his brother it was a constant tally in his own head in hunts like this, for no particular reason. The only time those numbers ever saw light would be the next time Gabriel was in a particularly buoyant mood and felt the need to drop into conversation that _remember the time I killed six biters in a single night?_.

But a small part of Castiel was absently curious, with the burn in his shoulder from swinging his blade a seemingly endless number of times. How many had he slain?

Balthazar had lost his cool, hollering profanities at the Vampire who'd bitten him as the woman released a gleeful, manic cackle. She ducked his blade and her nest-mate caught the steel in his neck, skipping over the head as it rolled past her feet. To Castiel she looked _gone_ , like her eyes were vacant save for the gory, vicious light of madness.

"Stupid fucking _cow_!" Balthazar ended with, diving after her regardless of the others around him.

Castiel chased him, overtaking Gabriel, throwing his arm around the shoulders of the nearest monster, his fist thudding hard against her chest as he kicked her knees from behind. When she went down he lopped her head off, his elbow catching another in the throat as he drew his arm back. He ducked automatically, whirling, a lifetime of training that saved his hide without him even actively using it. He slashed out at a pair of legs, springing to his feet to help Balthazar.

But then something made him look over his shoulder. Something in the midst of the Vampiric screaming and their hollering and his own heartbeat, something made him glance back. Maybe he'd heard it. Maybe. Maybe some sense he didn't know how to use had triggered it. Later, when it was all over, Castiel would think about it warily, uneasy and unable to pin a logical reason on it. Whatever it was, he would always be grateful for it.

Because Gabriel was standing still, his eyes blown wide and an expression on his face that frightened Castiel. A look in his eyes that chilled the younger Novak so fast it gave him goosebumps. Castiel had turned fast enough to see the moment his brother went down, four or five biters closing ranks around him.

 _"NO!"_

The rest was sketchy at best in Castiel's memory, stilted and disjointed images that came in flashes and brought with them a wave of nausea. He dove in that moment, all sense of his own safety lost at the image of his brother being dragged down by vicious monsters. And when it was done, when the haze of panic and adrenaline was gone, Castiel stood on shaky legs and turned to look at Gabriel where Castiel had thrown him, behind him and away from all those teeth.

Castiel heaved in a breath, forcing the air into his lungs and out again, in and out until they remembered how to do it on their own. He gripped Gabriel's arm with numb fingers and dragged him into a crushing hug, their bloodied clothes slick and darkened between them. Gabriel was breathing in hitches, and it could have been the adrenaline still coursing through Castiel's veins but he looked to be crying; great long tears that slid through the gore on his cheeks and gleamed in the hazel of his eyes.

When Castiel drew away Gabriel was shaking, strong jerking motions that had his hand skating over his face when he reached for his mouth. His pupils were blown wide and his face was deathly pale, paler even than Balthazar who came wearily to stand beside them, and he was the one who'd lost blood.

"We need to get out of here and do a little potion-making." Balthazar said, sounding out of breath and utterly _exhausted_.

Castiel nodded, trying not to let the worry overtake him because he knew they had time. It wasn't like Balthazar was going to tear into their throats right then. They had a few hours on average before he was even… _thirsty_. Plenty of time to brew a cure. Plenty of time to get out and somewhere safe. Castiel took a steadying breath and pushed his fears and worries deep down inside again, his collected head taking over once more.

It was okay. Everything was okay.

"Gabe?" Balthazar muttered, wincing as he shifted his grip on his wounded arm, reaching with red-stained fingers to I've Gabriel's shoulder a sharp squeeze, "It's okay, buddy. Everything's fine. We have to go, though."

Gabriel made an odd sound, blinking and turning his absent gaze on them as his facial muscles began to function again. He drew in a ragged breath, reaching for his face and then blinking again, as though the sight of blood on his hands was unexpected.

"I…" he trailed off, as though he didn't have anything to say.

"I got it." Castiel replied.

He tugged up his collar and loosened the string of blue material from his neck, pulled it over his head. It left his hair a mess but that was fine, and he folded it hastily before reaching for Gabriel's face.

"It's fine." he said, trying to sound calm with his heart still pounding from the nearness of it all.

He knew Gabriel was fine, he'd checked him over. Had he? He knew he had. He just couldn't quite remember it, that was all. But Gabriel wasn't bitten. He was _fine_. He scrubbed Gabriel's face, deliberately a little harsher than need be to try and rouse his brother from whatever trancelike state he seemed to be in.

"Cummon." he said, when most of the blood was gone, "Cummon Gabe. Let's go."

When Gabriel only blinked at him, owlish and uncomprehending, Castiel slid a strong arm around his back and guided him, following after a worried-looking Balthazar who's arm was still dripping red ooze as they made their way out of the hellish nest. Sunlight was blinding, blazing everywhere. Inside it had felt like night but here it was noon in summer.

In the car on the way back to the motel, Gabriel came round a little, seeming to check everything was okay before falling into a quiet sort of sullenness that Castiel didn't dare try to rouse him from. Balthazar was pale and sickly-looking in the passenger seat, and when Castiel glanced over at him he looked asleep, a deep frown of pain on his face and a sheen of sweat gathering on his brow. His fingers were still tight around his forearm, and Castiel looked away then, lest he lose his breakfast all over the dashboard.


End file.
